On the advice of his therapist, Bryce went ahead with scheduling a winter performance, with his antlers fully present. "Exposure therapy," she called it. He was never going to get past his anxieties if he didn't muster up the courage to confront them head on.

There'll be nothing up there to bump into! she'd explained to him. And even if they stare, so what? The audience is there to see you, aren't they?

Surprisingly, and to what should have been Bryce's great delight, the concert was going swimmingly. But then he happened to glance out in the audience and spied someone in the front row he wasn't expecting to see.

Someone who was watching him with particular interest: a wombat.

Artwork by  stupiddonkey